


Let's Remember Together

by Jubalii



Series: London Nights [7]
Category: Hellsing
Genre: F/M, Memories, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, revisiting the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:06:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubalii/pseuds/Jubalii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seras takes a leave of absence to revisit the scene of her death. Perhaps a reenactment is in order?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Remember Together

            “Sir, I’d like to take a leave of absence for a night.” Sir Integra looked up from her never-ending pile of paperwork, her pen pausing as she scribbled notes on a scrap piece of paper. Her one good eye widened slightly in surprise and she put the pen down, lacing her fingers.

            “Tonight?” she confirmed in astonishment. Seras nodded solemnly. “Well, of course you may, but…” the older woman paused. “Alucard is just back. Don’t you want to say something to him before you go?” Seras flushed slightly and shook her head in small jerks, looking down at the leather padded chair that sat on the opposite side of the heiress’s desk.

            “No, Sir. I’m sure you both still have things to talk about, and I’m not really sure he—that is, last night he didn’t say much of anything to me anyway.” She frowned slightly, as if unsure of how to say what was on her mind. “I think it best that I stay away a night or two, until he gets settled in.”

            “If that’s the way you feel,” Sir Integra replied after a long silence. “You may stay away during the night, but I expect you back here at first light,” she warned. “Do you wish to take one of the cars?” she added, her hand already jumping towards the desk drawer where the keys to all the manor’s vehicles were stowed. But Seras shook her head again.

            “No, Sir.” She grinned and nodded towards the windows, where the sun’s last light still feebly shone. “It’s going to be a beautiful night. I think I’d prefer to fly.” Sir Integra twisted in her chair and, deciding that the light left wouldn’t hurt her vampire, nodded in agreement.

            “First light,” she reminded her firmly. Seras nodded and waved goodbye before phasing into mist. A moment later, the hairs on Sir Integra’s neck rose as she took off outside, dark powers flaring before disappearing.

            Sir Integra didn’t return to her work immediately, instead pulling out a cigar and lighting it, leaning back in her chair. So…Alucard had returned last night, but hadn’t spoken to Seras. She inhaled deeply, blowing out a lazy tendril of smoke slowly as she pursed her lips. Now that she thought about it, after Seras had realized that the older woman wasn’t in mortal danger she’d stayed silent as a mouse. Integra had spoken to Alucard, but Seras had stood over by herself, guns in hand and her eyes never leaving her master.  

 _Well, well, well,_ she thought with a sense of grim satisfaction. _This should be interesting to see. I wonder what’s going to happen, now that she’s gone three decades without him breathing over her shoulder._ She smiled and flicked her ashes into the ashtray. _It’s been far too quiet around here. I might be old, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love a good bit of excitement in my house._

            “So, you think it’s been too quiet without me?” Sir Integra didn’t turn to look, but Alucard strode to her side anyway. He smiled smugly at her, and she obliged him with a measured smile of her own.

            “Of course. Without you here stirring up trouble, I’ve managed to have a nice break in the action.”

            “Whatever did you do without me?” he sneered, taking off his glasses and tucking them into the pocket of his coat.

            “Why, the same thing I did _with_ you,” she replied. “I did my work and kept to my office, and let my vampire handle the rest.” He arched a brow in question and she laughed. “I mean Seras, of course. She managed to keep England safe without you. She even scoured the black market and pocketed every last FREAK chip. We destroyed them all, but we did manage to save one for posterity.” She motioned to a tiny shadow box on the edge of her desk, where a burned chip sat inside on a pedestal. Even with the blackened markings, the Nazi symbol was still clearly visible.

            “Yes,” he murmured absently, gazing at it with indifference before looking about the room. “Where _is_ that girl? I’ve been meaning to speak with her.” Sir Integra bent her head to hide her smile, disguising her movements as if she meant to continue her work and reaching for her pen once more.

            “Out and about,” she responded vaguely. “She asked for a leave of absence for the night, and I allowed it.” _He doesn’t have to know that she’ll be back at dawn_ , she thought gleefully, taking care to hide her thoughts from his mind. _I may still be able to stir up some trouble myself._

            “She left?” He sounded puzzled. She looked up at him, schooling her face into a mask of pleasant neutrality.

            “Oh yes!” she replied, sounding amazed that he even doubted it. “With you here, she doesn’t have to hang around and keep me safe. And the Captain is still lurking about somewhere in the walls, no doubt. She’s free to go where she pleases. She’s got friends now, other immortal friends who she probably wishes to visit.”

            “Friends?” She saw a dark shadow cross his face for a moment before he hid it behind a mask of his own. It took all she had not to laugh out loud. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed teasing him; he didn’t understand that she was just aggravating him as much as he did her.

            “Naturally,” she declared. “After the world knew that Seras Victoria was capable of defeating the Great White Wolf of the Nazi’s army, we were flooded with requests and letters; even carrier pigeons that flew down the chimney to get to her.” She wrinkled her nose at the memory of all the cooing and feathers.

            “From who?”

            “Oh, just other vampires,” she replied as if it were no big deal. “They needed help with Ghoul control or monsters, this and that. She made friends with most of them, and they still send her letters. The Baron von-someone-or-other of Austria sent her a large bouquet of moonflowers on her birthday last year.”

This time, he couldn’t hide the look of jealousy that passed over his face. She bit her lip, determined not to smile and ruin it. She finished out her paper and sealed it in an envelope, setting it aside and picking up a quarterly allowance report from the Penwood house. _Oh no,_ she thought suddenly as she looked at the figures. _This will never do._

“Yes,” she continued as she frowned and began drafting a letter to the poor Knight, demanding more funding. “She’s even had some offers of _marriage_ over the years. Now that you’re back to protect me, she may accept one. They’re all very handsome men, I’m told.” She didn’t see a reason to tell him that Seras had politely turned down every hopeful vampire that asked her.

“Where did she go?” he growled. She looked up at him again, this time not having to pretend.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “She just asked if she could go. She didn’t give me an itinerary of events,” she added sarcastically.  She heard his answering snarl, even though he tried to keep it quiet. She gave it a moment’s thought, and then nodded to herself. “Hold on, Alucard.” She cleared her throat. “Captain Bernadotte!” she called.

The wall shuddered and the ghostly Captain stepped through as though it were an open doorway. He put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, staring at her expectantly. Sir Integra turned in her chair and regarded him quietly.

“Are you planning on staying around tonight? Or will you travel with Seras?”

“I was going to with her, but Seras said that she’d rather be alone,” he replied, a little bitterly. Sir Integra nodded and turned back to Alucard.

“There you have it,” she answered. “If you hurry, you might be able to catch her.”

* * *

 

Seras stared at the memorial underneath a rotted, blood-splattered wooden signpost. The silk flower wreaths were faded, the sign was covered in fungi and rotted away, and the pictures were yellowed with sun and age. But it still remained there, no one daring to touch it. She was surprised that vandals didn’t come to tear it apart.

“Cheddar Memorial” it said, on an old laminated card stuck in the front of the topmost wreath. The letters were faded and it looked more like ‘C ed  r Memo  a ‘, but Seras knew what it was supposed to mean. It hadn’t been kept up at all, but she didn’t mind. Anyone who was able to remember what happened in this village would be Sir Integra’s age, or older. Soon, no one would recall what had ever been so dangerous about the place, or even the massacre that had become the town’s namesake.

She had come here to think, knowing that the village would be abandoned. She hadn’t known that they’d placed a memorial there at all. She picked up a tiny framed photo at the front, and smiled sadly at the faces inside.

It was the picture of D-11, the one that used to hang in the main office of the police force along with the pictures of all the other elite teams. There she was, the only girl; first row, fifth place, just off center. The other officers must have placed it here; in their eyes, not a single member of D-11 survived that night.

Well, they were right, in some aspects. Technically, she didn’t survive that night either, but she was still here all the same. She looked at the smiling faces of her teammates, none of them knowing the hellstorm they would be going into in a few short months.

She shook her head and placed the picture back on the memorial. She was tempted to pocket it and take it along, but it belonged to this place. That part of her life was far away now, and the memories she had would be enough.

Standing straight, she gave the memorial one last glance and started on the path through the trees to the main village. The sounds of the forest echoed around her, but this time she wasn’t afraid. When she’d been here before, walking along with Eddie and Simon and hearing the screams of humans and howls of Ghouls (although at that time, she hadn’t had an idea of what a Ghoul _was_ ), she had been terrified.

She looked around, still seeing evidence of the horror that had happened all those years ago. Some of the trees were splintered, others had healed over their bullet wounds and created knots. Casings were still scattered on the ground, as well as dark splotches the suggested putrefied blood. Grass had grown wild all over the place, but those darkened spots stayed almost bare. Nothing could grow in the shadow of death.

She reached the town entrance and turned to the right, her memories guiding her. The path was still as fresh in her mind as if it had happened yesterday. She heard the echoes of gunshots, the terrified shouts of men radioing in for help and the constant moaning and gurgling hisses of Ghouls as they were shot down.

She continued to walk, passing a sign that pointed her towards the church ahead. She was content in her silence, in her loneliness. Pip had wanted to accompany her, but she had told him no. She’d wanted to come here on her own—he wouldn’t have understood the weight that this place held for her, the significance of a ghost town and the memories it kept, even after decades of emptiness.

She stopped at the base of a hill, looking up. There was the church, on the summit of the grass-covered knoll, looking as ominous as ever. She walked up slowly, looking at the gravestones sunken sideways as time and tectonics took their toll. The door was still open, and she peered inside. Dust covered every pew, and there was a movement up at the front.

Squinting, she saw that it was a family of raccoons. The largest reared on its hind legs and chattered in fear, sensing her supernatural otherworldliness. She retreated, leaving them in peace. She’d never gone farther than the front door anyway. They’d been attacked the moment they’d intruded on the vampire’s solitude.

Turning from the church door, she looked out over the houses. The moon hung low in the sky and if she didn’t know better, she would have called it peaceful, sleepy. She set off down the hill, the steep incline gently urging her into a jog. She closed her eyes, remembering that when she was a human, this was about as fast as she could run. She wasn’t even trying, now. She listened to the wind in her ears, a voice playing in the back of her mind like a record.

 _“It’s no use running… guns won’t help you… I wouldn’t want a vampire with free will running around…”_  She stopped on a dime, opening her eyes. Yes, this was about the place. A small clearing, surrounded by trees. It looked empty now, but at the time, the Ghouls had cut her off and she was closed in. That vampire…she winced, looking down at her chest.

 He had been about to rape her. She’d been frightened out of her mind. But… even then, she’d been trying everything she knew to escape, rather than do like others might and give up, saying their goodbyes to the world. Why had she been so convinced that she could shoot him and somehow get away? She’d seen him rip Simon’s throat out with his _teeth_.

Her arm… it was nothing but shadows now, yet she still remembered the pain as he swung it around behind her, disarming her and putting her in a hold. She’d tried to be brave. She didn’t want to cry, not in front of a no-good, low-down murderer like him. He’d felt her, his hands rough on her small body, and she’d been more embarrassed than frightened. But then his voice in her ear had set her on edge again as he told her what he was going to do to her.

She closed her eyes again, breathing in the night. His breath had reeked of blood; the inhuman monsters that had once been innocent villagers—and her own teammates—had stunk of death and something moldy. She could still smell it, from her memories. It sent a shiver down her spine. What had happened next? She frowned, trying to remember. She remembered him in her ear, and then…

Ah, that’s right. She had screamed. It had been her final act, the last thing on her list. She wasn’t a stupid girl; she knew that there was no one to scream to, no one to save her. Who could? They’d just be killed, like everyone else. And still she screamed, because she was human and instinct had called for it. Everyone screamed when they were frightened and alone and about to die. _She_ had been about to die.

But she had felt the air change, and had opened her eyes.

She opened her eyes now too, and looked up the hill. She paused, her eyes widening as her memory became real again. No, it was different. When she’d first saw him, he’d been wearing his glasses. Now she could see his eyes, red and flaming, and the wide smile didn’t quite reach them.

“Well, isn’t this a familiar sight?” he leered, and she wondered why in the world he’d followed her all the way out here. He looked around, his gaze lingering on nothing in particular, and licked his lips. “I come back for one night—just one—and already you’ve gone away, chasing your past.”

She swallowed, and he began to slowly walk down the hill towards her. He was silent, and she half-remembered that he’d been blown apart by now, with all the guns that the vampire had amassed from his Ghouls. She’d been afraid for him—she hadn’t known what he was then…or _who_ he was, for that matter.

“The only thing that’s missing is a foolish charlatan holding you hostage.” He tilted his head, staring down at her. “Why did you come here?”

“I… I wanted to remember, as strange as it sounds.” She looked away, back towards the village. “They left me flowers. Did you see? There was a memorial, at the sign up at the front of the village.”

“Why would you need flowers? This isn’t your grave.” She opened her mouth to argue, but then closed it again. What was the point of fighting with him? He wouldn’t understand—he wasn’t human enough to appreciate the gesture anymore. He wouldn’t care about flowers on _his_ grave; why would he care about hers?

Something plagued the back of her mind and she sighed dejectedly, walking past him to sit on the hill.  She put her elbows on her knees and stared at the leaves rustling in the breeze.

“May I ask you something?” she finally said. He watched her quietly before moving to join her, sitting a little ways apart.

“You may.” She looked down at her hands, one white-gloved, and the other black shadow.

“That night, I screamed and you appeared out of nowhere. Did you come for me?” He stared at her, and she saw something flash in his eyes. His smile vanished and she wondered what the problem was.

“Were you calling for me?” She shrugged.

“I didn’t know you. How could I call for you if I didn’t know you?” she answered. “ _Did_ I call for you?” she continued, sensing that he knew more than he was letting on.

“Did you call for me?” he repeated. “You tell me.”

“I don’t know!” she shouted exasperatedly. “How could I have?!” He blinked, unaffected by her shrill tone, and she buried her face in her hands. “I’m never going to understand you, am I?”

“Why did you come here tonight?” he asked suddenly. “I thought you’d be pounding on my door the minute the sun set, ready to annoy me with your never-ending prattle.” She kept her face hidden from him, but her fingers parted and he felt her looking at him.

“Why didn’t you speak to me last night? You never even said hello.”

“Neither did you.”

“Well, I—” she hesitated, taking her hands from her face. “I thought you wanted to speak to Sir Integra.”

“I spoke to her.”

“But not to me.” He mimicked her frown, eyeing her intently.

“No,” he finally conceded. “Not to you.” The corner of her mouth twisted and she broke eye contact. “Why must I be the first one to talk?”

“I don’t know. You always talk first. I just thought—” She heaved another sigh. “I don’t know what I thought.” She stood and he followed suit, the frown never leaving his face.

“Do you really want to remember?” She looked strangely at him, sniffing and rubbing her nose on the collar of her uniform.

“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t,” she replied cooly, pursing her lips. She was clearly trying to discern some sort of nonexistent hidden message in his question. He tilted his head, and then reached into his pocket. She bristled, but he only pulled his sunglasses out and stuck them on his face in a manner that somehow seemed elegant and aloof.

“Well then, let’s remember together,” he purred, a savage edge to the words. She arched a brow and looked away, mumbling something about “alone” before obediently walking to stand back where she’d been all those years ago. “Now, let’s see… that pathetic excuse for a vampire had already ‘killed’ me, and now he’s reasoning with me to let him slither away like the lizard he is.” He grinned expectantly. “And you are his unwilling hostage.”

“I remember,” she snapped, and crossed her arms. She had wanted to do this alone, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to let her be alone again for a while. _He always gets his way; it’s only been thirty years, you shouldn’t have forgotten that._ She saw the corners of his sneer widen and remembered that he could still hear her thoughts too.

She scoffed under her breath and ducked her head to hide the blush working across her cheeks. _Let him be offended, for all I care. Nosy git._ “I also remember that your glasses had been shot off at this point.” He chuckled darkly, but removed the glasses and threw them off to the side instead of sticking them back into his pocket. “Well? I haven’t got all night. Go ahead. I’m a hostage; you’re a smug son of a bitch. The guy’s walking ash at this point.”  This earned her another shady leer.

“Are you a virgin, my dear?” The words shouldn’t have caught her off guard. After all, he’d said that, back then. But it still took her by surprise, and her face continued to heat as she looked up in alarm. He paused, eyes boring into her face, and she felt the vicar’s hot breath on her neck, his loud voice in her ear. _What are you doing?_

“I’m asking if you’re a virgin,” he answered, voice impertinent and silently commanding her to answer. _You bastard!_ She was going to answer “no” just to make him angry, but a sudden breeze lifted the bangs away from his face, the full force of his stare hitting her all at once, and the insolent retort caught in her throat. She choked for a minute, unable to look away. Something in his eyes held her, and she wasn’t sure if he was playing along anymore or if his words had taken a drastic turn somewhere.

“Y-yes. I am.” The correct reply was out of her mouth before she could think. She didn’t _want_ to think about what he might have really meant. After all, they hadn’t seen each other for thirty damn years; he didn’t expect her to just come out and list her entire sexual history for him, did he? Not that she had much of one… but he didn’t need to know that, either. He probably knew she was still a virgin, anyway. He always seemed to have a way of finding out about those sorts of things.

 _Bam!_ The shot was through her chest before she had time to react, or even brace herself. It echoed across the hills, and she felt the blood rushing up into her mouth from her mutilated lung as the impact knocked her backwards. _Damn! That still hurts!_ she thought, more irritated than anything else. She’d rebuilt her body up countless times over the past few years; his bullet left a large mark, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

She hit the ground with an anticlimactic thud, looking up at the moon hanging in the sky. She swallowed the mouthful of blood as she felt the air on her clavicle for a brief moment. Then her shadows rushed to heal the wound, though she didn’t rise immediately. The grass was soft in this little patch, and she was content to stare up at the sky until she was fully healed. _There should be some clouds. There were clouds, that night, even if the moon was uncovered._

She heard grass rustling and then he was staring down at her, his glasses back on his face again. Had they been on his face when she lay there the night she died? She tried to remember, but that particular detail escaped her. Perhaps he’d put them back on at that point. He looked down at her, tilting his head slightly as if unsure what to make of her. She looked up at him, eyebrows rising almost of their own accord.

“I had to shoot through you to pierce his heart.” She blinked up at him before letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I’m sorry, but you’re dying and there’s no time left.” He’d apologized, but his tone wasn’t apologetic in the slightest. He sounded more matter-of-fact than anything else. But then again, hadn’t he always been that way? “The choice is yours; what do you want to do?”

 _Thanks, but I think I’ll just keel over and die instead_. The thought rose unbidden to her mind and she nearly laughed. Was that really what he had said to her? How the hell did “what do you want to do?” turn into “you wanna come with me, become a vampire, and do shit together?” She bit her lip to keep from smirking and held out a hand to him. She meant it as the universal gesture of “help me up”, but had a fleeting memory of holding out a more imploring hand to him as she bled to death on the cold ground.

 She remembered her life flashing before her eyes, brief as it was. The nagging sense of unfairness—the feeling that she should have been given a second chance, that there was so much she hadn’t done, so many she hadn’t met. The coldness that had gripped her heart with a fist of iron, the chill of death closing in as her eyesight began to fail her. Had the world gone blurry, or had she been crying for herself? She considered it, wondering if she’d been reaching for him at all or if she’d only been trying to claw her way back to the world of the living before it had become lost to her forever.

He didn’t help her up, and she let her arm hang foolishly in the air for a moment before grunting in frustration and letting it fall. Only then did he bend and catch it in one swift movement, resting one knee on the ground and watching her. She fought the urge to roll her eyes, seeing instead her reflection in his glasses. Was he remembering how she looked back then, bloodstained and glaze-eyed?

“Police Girl…tonight is truly a beautiful night.”

“You know, I said the same thing to Sir Integra earli— _whoa_!” While she had been laughing internally about them both saying the same thing, he’d halfway picked her up off the ground and had zeroed in on her exposed throat. She jerked back to the here-and-now, pushing against his chest and leaning away. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Remembering,” he purred in a suave whisper, baring his teeth. She took one look at the sharp fangs and shook her head firmly, hands pushing in vain at his imposing form bending over her.

“No, I don’t think we need to take it this far,” she said sternly, pushing her shoulders up to hide her neck like a turtle in its shell. “You’re not biting _me_.” He paused at this, head rising from her neck to look her in the eyes. He was close enough that their noses brushed, and she could see his eyes clearly behind the amber lenses.

“Don’t you think it might give you some closure?” he asked impishly, tipping his head forward to watch her over the edge of his frames. She shook her head quickly, not daring to bare any more of her neck than need be. He could strike like a viper when he wanted to. “Well, someone’s got to have their blood drawn tonight.”

“Yeah? Someone, but not me.” She was adamant in her refusal, but that only made him strive harder. He grinned wickedly, pretending to look around the hillside, all the while holding her in a vice grip.

“My, my, Police Girl; it seems that there’s only two people here eligible: you, and _me_.” She paled at his words. “And between the two of us, who do you expect to come out on top in this?”

She didn’t mean to look at his neck. She only wanted to avert her gaze from his smug expression. But in doing so, she caught sight of the long, slender appendage so close to her, twisted and bared as he searched the hillside, and her mouth went dry. Her hands were still pushing against his chest, right beneath his collarbone. All she had to do was move them mere _inches_ and yank his coat to the side. Knock him off balance, bury her teeth in his pale throat, and she’d have him wrapped around her finger.

She’d seen other vampires fall to a swift bite; she didn’t remember _her_ blood being sucked out, but it was said to be a very pleasurable experience. Apparently vampire saliva was like spider poison—just a little of it left their victims helpless, or so the rumors went. Others claimed it to be an aphrodisiac; one human that volunteered at a vampiric restaurant (there were some _crazy_ jobs out there if you looked hard enough) said that a well-meant bite felt like sex and the most powerful drugs wrapped up into one package, without the guilt and withdrawals.

A little voice in the back of her head caught wind of the errant thought and it burrowed its tendrils into her mind like a thorn, whispering diabolically rebellious thoughts in her ears. _He’s been gone thirty years, hasn’t he? Thirty years that you’ve been drinking blood…. He couldn’t even move last night when he was shot; right now, you’re stouter. You could throw him to the ground and rip his throat out if you wanted to. You can do it, you’ve been drinking the blood, you’ve gotten **stronger** while he’s been gone…. _

“Well? I asked you a question.” She looked back up at him, the thoughts tunneling deeper into her conscious until they hit a nerve and she felt her eyes burn as dark as his in the night. “ _Who do you think_?”

“Me,” she sneered back, taking him by surprise as she sank her fangs into his throat.


End file.
